


Tango With A Different Beat

by lindsey_grissom



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-29
Updated: 2009-06-29
Packaged: 2017-10-10 13:54:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/100502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindsey_grissom/pseuds/lindsey_grissom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>There's a list as long as Colonial One with half the points already ticked off.  She could pick any of them...</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Tango With A Different Beat

**Author's Note:**

> For the second [bsg_pornbattle](http://community.livejournal.com/bsg_pornbattle/). Short version posted [here](http://community.livejournal.com/bsg_pornbattle/7913.html?thread=766185#t766185). Prompts: _Bill/Laura. 2nd Colonial Day, anywhere you want it, fantasy, Husker, in the pilot rec room, overheard, phone sex, smell so damn good, tell me what you want._

"Oh." It slips out, more a sound than a full word and cuts off the stream of Bill's words in her ear.

"Laura?" She taps her finger against the date in the open diary, white teeth chewing on her lip as she thinks.

"Colonial Day. It's next Tuesday, we almost forgot." It's the second one during their time in space. The third, really, but there had been nothing to celebrate down on New Caprica. She had been in Detention, she thinks. Or being patched up by Jack again. "At least this year I won't be appointing a new Vice President." _Frakkin' weasel_.

"We'll have to hold the dancing on Galactica." She's almost distracted enough by the way his voice has lowered, turning rough and showing off his callsign, that she nearly misses what his words imply.

"Who said there would be dancing? Bill, we don't have enough time to organise that." She doesn't say that after the exodus and the last few months on the run all she wants at night is to slip between the sheets of his rack, to hold him close and breathe in his scent. She hasn't even had the energy to frak him like she used to, not with the way the Quorum have been acting up lately. She's been expending energy in all the wrong places.

"We'll make time. There has to be dancing Laura. Everyone loves dancing." And like that, his voice dips a little more, the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and she knows they're not talking about the same kind of dancing anymore.

"Bill." It should be a warning. It's not. She casts a glance around the empty room, not sure whether she's looking for a reason to carry on or to stop. She catches sight of her cot through the open curtain, covers a mess because she's had to sleep there for the last few nights and not elsewhere. _Bill, don't stop._

"No, you'll call me Admiral Adama when you greet me at the door. And I'll call you 'Madame President' and shake your hand like everyone else. But mine will hold yours a little longer than it should and I'll lean forward, kissing your cheeks one at a time. Just like Zarek." He practically growls the name, sending a shock of heat down her body. She knows that annoys him, but he just will not admit it. Every time she meets with Tom, Bill gets a little closer to throwing away propriety and dragging her down onto the deck just to stake his claim. Her heart jumps and she draws in a sharp breath. She probably wouldn't stop him if he did.

"Bill..." Breathy and low. Gods, he can affect her so much so fast. She could listen to his voice forever as it soothes her, but when he makes calls like this, when he really gets started, her body lights up without a single touch.

"And while I have you there, I'll stroke along your wrist with my thumb, feel the beat of your heart and know that the speed is all because of me. And you'll let me, won't you Laura? You'll let me take my time even though there's a queue waiting to walk past you. A row of delegates that want your hand but can't have it. And then I'll pull back and salute and you'll do that little gasp." He pauses as she gasps. "Just like that. Just like you always do. And then I'll walk away and you'll shake their hands but I'll watch you. I'll turn around and watch you. My eyes, they'll see everything you do, Laura. They'll know that you're moving faster than before, trying to get away from your responsibilities. And I'll know it's because of me."

She tries to hold it in but she's alone and Bill's words paint pictures in her mind and the moan escapes anyway. She grips the phone tighter, pressing it closer to her ear.

"Do you like that Laura? The thought of my eyes on you, watching you. I do it all the time and I will there. Even when the room surges and fills with people I'll watch you. Run my eyes up your body, and you'll feel them, like they're my hands. I'll stare at your ass in the black skirt and you'll think of having my hands there, kneading and stroking. And your legs, Gods, I'll stare at your legs and you'll imagine my tongue running up and down them, won't you? By the time you're finished shaking hands, I'll be watching your chest. The rise and falls as you breathe, and you'll want to pant but you won't because you have so much control. And it's so hot when you hold it all in. But you'll catch me staring and I won't stop. Can you feel my eyes Laura? Are you pretending your hands are mine?"

"Yes, Bill..." It's a drawn out hiss and she slides lower in her chair, her hand going to her blouse and tearing at the buttons until she can feel her own skin. It feels hot to the touch. Which fits; she's on fire inside. "Gods Bill, touch me." She wriggles her hips, thighs clenching together, squeezing herself as the heat builds between her legs.

"Not yet, you're too far away. But when you've given your speech. After I've followed the lines of your neck, your jaw while you talk. When you try not to stumble over your words because you can almost feel my lips there, my teeth at your ear. After the dancing starts and you step away from the crowds. Then I'll touch you Laura. But I'll be a gentleman, just your Admiral and I'll take your hand and hold your waist. And you'll try to arch into me. Press your breasts against my chest, but I'll back away and swing you around. You'll be so impatient, you'll make that noise in the back of your throat. Make it for me Laura."

She does. She can't not. Her hand slides down her chest, fingers stroking the damp skin.

"Frak, that's it. But it isn't that kind of dance, not yet. You'll have to wait, feeling my hands on your body in all the wrong places. And then suddenly I'll pull you close, bury my face in your hair and you smell so damn good, Laura. I'll breathe you in and you'll feel just what you're doing to me. But we won't do anything, not on the dancefloor. But you'll want to. You'll want me to take you right there, with the whole fleet watching. Show them just who you belong to. Because you're mine Laura, no one elses."

There's a silent, _not Zarek's_ there, but she doesn't care to hear it. Right here, right now, she wants that, Gods does she want that. Her pulse spikes and her fingers reach the waistband of her skirt. Removing it would be too slow, she shifts around on the seat until the   
skirt is bunched up beneath her thighs. Reaching down, she pushes aside the damp layer of cotton and groans at the first touch of fingers against her wet folds. "Yours, Gods Bill, yours."

There's a groan on the other end of the line, and the sound of material shifting. He's touching himself. Her fingers flex at the thought, and the mental picture she has of what he must look like, legs spread behind his desk. She pushes a single finger into herself a hum starting to build in her throat.

"The song'll end and I'll drag you out of the room. Where do you want to go Laura? Anywhere you want."

Gods, anywhere, she doesn't care. She slips a second finger into herself, curling them and pushing deeper, searching out those spots he finds every single time. A thought, half formed but blindingly visual of Bill in a flight suit. _Husker_. "Rec room. The-" She cuts of to swallow hard, breathing fast. "The Pilot's Rec room."

There's a silent moment, he's swallowing his own breath, before he starts up again. He's relentless and she loves it.

"The Rec room. I'll drag you there Laura. Kick out the pilots that didn't make it to the dance. They'll know what we're doing. I won't care. You won't care, will you?" She can't answer, but she does moan. "No, we won't care. We'll use the first rack, right by the hatch. You'll step out of your panties, but leave everything else on. So impatient. And lay back against the sheet, legs spread. I'll unzip my fly and." He stops. She stops, a third finger just half filling her. "Tell me what you want, Laura. What do you want me to do to you?"

There's a list, as long as Colonial One with half the points already ticked off. She could pick any of them. Anything. Instead, she pushes the third finger all the way in and flicks her wrist just so and chooses the only real option. "Frak me, Admiral. I want you to frak me in the rack. On the floor. Against the hatch. Anywhere. Just take me Bill."

She hears the catch in his throat, the grunt as he thrusts into his own hand harder, faster. She curls her fingers again and presses down on her clit with the heel of her palm, rubbing and stroking herself. The tension builds low in her stomach, her thighs practically vibrating with the need for him to be here, touching her.

"I will. I'll take you on that rack, your skirt up around your waist, and you'll be so wet for me, Laura. So frakkin' wet that I won't need to prepare you. I'll thrust into your tight heat and you'll hum for me. Cry out when I hit deep inside you. But I won't touch you until you're so close. Are you close?" His voice is ragged, losing it's already rough edges to sharp intakes of breath. And she's close, so damn close. _Gods Bill, now._

"Now. So close, Bill. Bill-"

"I'll touch you. Circle you and rub just how you need it. And then, then Laura. The you'll come around me, squeezing me. Screaming out my name." She can feel the pulses building, her walls contracting. "Now Laura. NOW!" And she comes. Flying over the edge, head falling back against the chair, her mouth a tight line against the scream that wants to come out. Always mindful of the thin curtain. A gasp breaks through her control and she hears an answering groan. Her name, deep and low as though torn from his lips and she knows he's coming with her.

She pants through the lingering waves. Slowly slides her fingers out of herself, watching them shine in the dim light of her office. "Oh Gods." Her entire body feels fluid, loose and free, all the built up tensions form the week flowing out of her with her orgasm.

"Laura." His voice still catches as he regains his breath, barely above a whisper. She clings to the phone and absorbs everything she can. "Frak Laura."

There's a cough on the line, high pitched, and Laura freezes. She imagines Bill doing the same.

"I'm sorry Sir, Ma'am." The voice is almost unrecognizable, barely more than a squeak. Laura's body runs cold. _Dee._

"Bill, tell me you requested a secure line." She's almost pleading, even though she knows he can't have, not if Dee is there. Has been there. The whole time.

The line remains silent. Her face flushed a bright red, Laura clenches her hands into a fist, the phone groans with the added pressure. "Dammit, Bill. You swore this wouldn't happen again!"

 

**End.**


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